The Amarushataka or “Hundred Poems of King Amaru” is a cycle of love poems dating to about the middle of the eighth century. Indian tradition ascribes it to a single author (otherwise unknown), but most Western scholars consider it an early anthology. Some of its best poems appear in later anthologies, credited to other poets. It has maintained a central position in Indian literature since the ninth century when the Kashmiri scholar, philosopher, and critic Anandavardhana wrote, “It is well known that a single stanza of the poet Amaru may provide the flavor of love equal to what’s found in whole volumes.” Four different versions of the text occur in India, ranging from 96 to 115 stanzas. For my translations I have worked with the Southern edition, edited in about 1420 by Vemabhupala.

My translation of the full cycle will be published in fall of 2004 by Shambhala Publications in their Shambhala Library Series, under the title Erotic Love Poems from India.

—Andrew Schelling

You provided love,you touched her intimately for a long time.Now in a fatal twist you’ve inflicted the rawest wound.Tender words can’t assuageher unbearable jealousy.Our friend needs to cry now—grief has unlocked her throat.

—Amarushataka 7

When she’d been icy hedropped at her feet.But accused of cheating in secrethe bristled andleft. She exhaled audiblyboth hands on her breastsand glancedthrough moist eyes ather girlfriends.

—Amarushataka 19

Why is this enchantedcreature asleep,a sash fastened over her robe—?He was softly queryingthe servants when she cried bitterlyMother, he disrupts my dreams even here!and turned as ifsleeping to make roomon the bed.

—Amarushataka 20

Each turned asideon the bedsilently sufferingsecretly hoping to reconcile butafraid to lose face.At some point their furtive eyes met—there was a quickunintentional laugh and thequarrel brokein one wild embrace.

The lord of her heartmade someinjurious remark.Lacking the counsel of friendsshe could not compose her bewildered body or phrasea slant reply.Blue eye petals darting aboutshe just wept—tears on bright cheekboneslocks of stray hair.

—Amarushataka 27

Now I know everything.Please go. Talking is pointless.You don’t bear theslightest blame,fate has simply turned from me.If your so abundant lovecomes to thiswhat pain could I experienceif hateful life—mere flicker of nature—departed?

—Amarushataka 28

She averts a well-bred facewhen her lordfingers her skirt.He moves to enfold hershe extracts her limbs mildly.Caught wordless,eyeing the conspiratorial smilesof her bridesmaidsat a first joke the girlnearly perishes.

—Amarushataka 36

We’d been drinking.She noticed wounds on my skinfrom her ownfingernailsand bolted up jealously.Let go, she cried when I caught her skirt.Tear-streaked face avertedlower lip quavering—who could forgetwhat she said next?

—Amarushataka 47

Unhappy women have used tears, severe oaths, even collapseto prevent a lover from traveling.Darling I’m a pluckier girl.Good luck & for your early departureI hope a good day.After you’re gone you may hearwhat I see fit to do with my love life.

—Amarushataka 52

Hear his nameand every hair on mybody’s aroused.See his moonlike faceI get moist like a moonstone everywhere.He steps near enough to touchmy throat& pride is broken oh harddiamond heart.

—Amarushataka 58Note: In Indian folklore the moonstone is said to secrete moisture when struck by a moonbeam.

You’re determinedto lead your whole lifelike a child?Develop some pridetake a riskwith a lover you need to be devious.Her face whitenedat her friend’s admonishment—speak softly he’ll hear you he dwellsin my heart.